


Lunar Calendar

by nicoleiacross



Category: Final Fantasy XV
Genre: Alternate Universe - Vampire, Alternate Universe - Werewolf, M/M, Mildly Graphic Violence, Vampire/Werewolf AU
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-02-20
Updated: 2017-03-16
Packaged: 2018-09-25 21:57:13
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 4
Words: 12,251
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9847745
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/nicoleiacross/pseuds/nicoleiacross
Summary: Theyshouldhate each other; but supernatural law doesn't really apply when you've been in love for what feels like forever.





	1. First Moon

**Author's Note:**

  * Inspired by [Bitemarks and Bloodstains](https://archiveofourown.org/works/9252272) by [liziscribbles](https://archiveofourown.org/users/liziscribbles/pseuds/liziscribbles). 



> Guess who invaded @heyjealousy's playground again \o/ (I was given permission and regret absolutely nothing, other than the fact I should be asleep. But here I am posting this instead.)  
> As usual, you should always read her work first! In this instance, at least through chapter 12, since that covers the first full moon!
> 
> **obligatory warning** for mildly graphic depictions of a transformation. If you've seen Hemlock Grove, fantastic! Think of that. If you _haven't_ and are easily squicked out by gore and body horror, please do not look that up. Otherwise, youtube has the transformation scene up!

The second Gladio pulls the door down, Ignis turns his attention to the walls of the chamber and the door behind him, observing the claw marks with interest. He uses the investigation—turning to touch the marks—to give Gladio the vaguest sense of privacy. Even so, it's hard not to listen, as Gladio kicks his boots off to the corner, throws his jacket and shirt off to join the boots; Ignis doesn't hear his pants following suit, but isn't terribly worried. They brought spare clothes for a reason. He doesn't turn back around until he hears the chain given a testing pull.

Gladio looks absolutely miserable, as his hands finally stop messing with the thick collar, stop messing with the chain, and fall to his sides. He moves to test his range of movement, walking to each side as far as he can (far enough that he can tap the side walls with his knuckles, without stretching his arm to full length). He starts to test the forward range at the same time Ignis takes a few steps towards him; and, immediately, his head snaps up and he backs up until he hits the wall next to the chain's base. Ignis freezes in his spot, brows drawing together in a tight knit as a frown settles on his lips. He can hear the way his pulse goes from the steady-but-fast nervous beat into anxious and terrified. Not something he normally—if ever—associates to Gladio.

"Gladio—"

"— _Don't_ —not... not until—" He shakes his head a few times, unwilling to finish the sentence. Instead, he turns to pacing—one side of the room to the other, mindful to keep his distance from Ignis and sticks as close to the back as possible. For his part, Ignis slowly backs up to give him space to calm down and observes the anxious behaviour in silence.

Normally, silence between them is fine. Comforting, peaceful, amiable... intimate, even. This silence, though... _this_ is thick and he can only imagine how much worse it is for Gladio—how suffocating it is, on top of the anxious spike of nerves.

He wonders which of them notices the change first—notices when the moon rises first. Ignis doesn't even need to glance at his watch, his senses pick up on the sudden disruption in Gladio's breathing—already erratic, uneven and hitching; the breaths become more hitched but fall into a steady pattern that sounds like he's struggling for each breath, that each breath is physically painful, even when he inhales deeper, exhales sharper. His pulse rockets, the blood pumps faster and, for the briefest moment, Ignis feels lightheaded and dizzy and intoxicated by the blood. Stronger than usual. Almost like the night back in Hammerhead but... _different_. Not appetizing, not inviting, not _Gladio_ —but... it is. It's still Gladio, just... _different_. Not a necessarily _bad_ different... but, commanding. Primal. A threat to other creatures. Ignis just finds it... honestly, a little relieving. It's different but it's still him. Still the Gladio he knows.

The relief is short lived as the _physical_ aspect of turning begins. He's startled from his thoughts by a short, strangled shout of pain. A shout that turns into guttural snarls that are drowned under the sound of joints dislocating and rearranging; bones breaking and growing and snapping into place.  The force knocks him down to his knees, his back arching as he curls in on himself to try alleviating the pain. Hands—no, paws. Paws emerge first as claws break through the second knuckles on his hands. The ridges along his spine become more prominent, shifting and rearranging and soon tearing at the back on his skin as well. It takes Ignis a moment—a longer moment than he cares—to realise there's a small pool of blood on the floor. Even so, he's so immersed watching the transformation that the scent and sight of blood don't bother him in the least and he's... rather genuinely surprised by the fact, later.

It takes a good ten minutes—maybe longer, he isn't too acutely aware of time at the moment—for the wolf to fully emerge from discarded skin. It should be disturbing—no. That's a lie; it's definitely disturbing... but, also a strange kind of relieving, watching the large black wolf shake off the little bit of muscle and flesh and blood still clinging to its fur and nosing down at the torn flesh with a few sniffs and huffs

_That_ is disturbing. Watching the flesh nudged off to the side—the back corner of the room, like sweeping dust under a rug—before the wolf finally turns attention to Ignis. Large, miserable eyes that look nothing less than shameful and submissive. Ignis watches him, closely, for a few seconds before trying to coax him forward by kneeling down and holding a hand out, "Gladio, it's all right."

His ears perk up in recognition (Ignis can at least confirm he's _mostly_ aware in this form), but his posture is still submissive, body low to the ground, close to the back wall, and tail tucked and curled between his legs. He gives a throaty whine and refuses to move forward. Ignis lets out a slow breath and nods minutely, "Very well, have it your way."

Even in saying that, Ignis doesn't move back. He has a point to make, too, after all. He doesn't move any closer—lets Gladio decide how close is too close for them—and settles in the middle of the room with his legs crossed. No further back than necessary and close enough that Gladio can reach him if he so desires. If he wants him calm, the best Ignis can do is show him there _is nothing_ to fear, least of all injuries. It isn't difficult because Ignis _isn't_ afraid.

It is, at the very least, a little amusing. In this form, Gladio is easily bigger than most wild wolves, but otherwise... he looks exactly like one. A thick black coat over a dark brown undercoat; the only real indicator of lycanthropy is his slightly larger build and the way his eyes glow, even though the room is lit. Ignis just smiles and leans back on his hands, calm and inviting, and keeping a watchful eye on Gladio for the slightest change in behaviour. Even when his attention shifts around the room, he's mindful and aware of Gladio's presence and any movement. In passing, he finds himself making note to bring a book for next month.

It takes a while. He doesn't count the minutes; but, he watches Gladio start to creep forward—low to the ground, more like crawling on his forepaws than actually walking over. A few inches at a time, freezing whenever Ignis spares him a glance. But, even that doesn't stop him after a few nervous shuffles and he finally raises to walking properly, nails making soft echoes in the room until he nudges his muzzle against Ignis' shoulder in a nervous gesture. Ignis rewards him with a smile and, before he can say anything or consider petting his ears (mostly wondering if that would be an insult or welcome), Gladio settles down. Three legs stay tucked close to his body, while one of his forepaws stretches across Ignis' lap. A familiar gesture—the same way Gladio sprawls on his lap when he doesn't want Ignis to leave bed for whatever reason—and soon his head is lowered to resting on the nearest leg. His head tilts a little to regard Ignis, like he's asking if this is all right; and, this time, the smile is accompanied by Ignis running a hand through Gladio's fur. From his neck, as far down his back as he can reach, and then bringing his hand back to give his ears a gentle scratch.

Apparently, the gesture isn't an insult in the least, as Gladio's tail gives a content swish before he presses closer and makes himself comfortable, letting out a soft, pleased huff every time Ignis pets him. A while longer and Ignis unbuckles the collar from Gladio's neck and looks amused when he stands to shake off, clearly delighted to be free of the restraint. A moment later, his amusement is a bit more verbal—a laugh that echos off the walls, when Gladio flops his entire weight across Ignis' lap, easily knocking the vampire onto his back.

It takes a few tries—not that he's trying very hard—to push Gladio back into his lap so he can sit up. But, as soon as Ignis is sitting upright again, the wolf easily settles back to his prior position—one paw across his lap and head on his leg—and is still for the rest of the night, even when soft, sleepy huffs fill the air in place of snores.


	2. Second Moon

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Yay I can post this chapter now that [Chapter 22](http://archiveofourown.org/works/9252272/chapters/22374740) for Bitemarks and Bloodstains is up! Remember to read @heyjealousy's chapters first! Also leave her lots of nice words, friends, cuz she deserves all the nice words ♥

Gladio is considerably less anxious their second full moon together.

Ignis finds himself smiling, a book and pillow tucked under one arm, while a cooler hangs from the other, beneath a blanket. A few blood packets for himself (not that he'll drink them), and snacks for Gladio while he's changed and for when he wakes up. Their own calm seems to be considerably helpful for the other wolves around them, oddly enough. Some of them give alarmed stares—a few glower at Ignis, clearly scenting him as vampire; but, they don't attack—but for the most part, seeing them calm seems to have an exceptionally positive effect on the populace around them (Nyx, especially, who was still extremely nervous about Luna being with him). Ignis waits until Gladio pulls the door down to comment on it.

"You know, I'm beginning to think that lycan are so violent due to their anxious mindset prior to transformation." He's mostly thinking aloud, but it is worth looking into. He's not desperate to test the theory just yet—mostly on account he's sure most wolves wouldn't trust being near a vampire to see the experiment carried through—but it is a thought that interests him to test _eventually_. He does have eternity, after all.

"That honestly wouldn't surprise me." Gladio doesn't move towards the collar. They're early and, even if they weren't, now that he knows he doesn't need it, he's not keen on being anywhere near it. "But there is... _something_. I can't remember anything from when I'm a wolf, but... it's like this nagging in the back of my head, y'know? Like...." he makes a gesture, but can't seem to find the words.

Ignis nods a little to show he _does_ understand--the small voice, the pressure of ignoring instinct--and can't stop himself from smiling when he teases, "Like when I tell you not to get in a fight and you choose to ignore me?"

Gladio gives him a sheepish grin, crossing the room and to wrap him up in a hug, "Something like that. Just... harsh. More frequent. It gets louder when I ignore it, but... it's quiet when you're here. Like I'm still me."

Ignis shakes his head, leaning up to brush a chaste kiss across his lips, "You _are_ still you. Don't make me lecture you the same way I do Noct. I will. You know I will."

The smile he receives this time is much softer, more grateful, and Gladio gives an agreeing nod, "Right... so. Dinner first or clothes?"

Ignis rolls his eyes, "As though you'd keep your clothes on, regardless. Give them here so I can fold them, at least."

He holds his arms out, patiently, when Gladio steps back; but, he still shakes his head when Gladio kicks his boots off to a corner. At the very least, he hands off his clothes—one piece at a time—before he goes to collect his boots and sit them proper next to the folded pile of clothes. Ignis spreads the blanket out with a hum, close to the wall, and fluffs the pillow for his back before he settles down.

Gladio almost immediately joins him, straddling his lap, pressing him back into the wall in the process, and claims his mouth in a kiss; less chaste, more for grounding—for that final reassurance before he blacks out—and just because it's... them. This is part of their new lives and it feels completely normal, when the kiss breaks and Ignis' attention drifts to a spot of ink-free flesh on Gladio's neck.

Given his accelerated healing, the bite has long healed over since Ignis fed last; but, he knows the spot—knows Gladio will make a hellish fuss if he tries to bite anywhere else—and gives it a small kiss before biting. Gladio's breath doesn't hitch anymore when he bites—not the way it had the first few times, when they were still learning what was too hard, when the angle was off. They'd found a spot and a way that gave only the slightest prick of pain (even then, Gladio admitted it was a _good_ kind of pain; something familiar, something intimate, something _them_.) and Ignis had learned that, even as tempting as Gladio's blood was, it was easy to control himself. After a few test sips in early stages—fear of going too far stopping him from a 'full meal'—he found that drinking _from_ Gladio was much more efficient than the number of blood pouches he needed to go through to feel full. Alternatively, it could have just as easily been the fact that he stole small sips throughout the day as opposed to drinking all at once in the morning and, or, evening.

Honestly, he was a little surprised no one had caught on yet—or, if they had, no one had said anything. He thinks Luna may know; but, on the chance she doesn't, he hasn't brought it up yet. 

The mark closes almost as soon as Ignis pulls away and he has to slap Gladio's hand to keep him from agitating the closing bite. He gives him a cross look, "We've talked about this."

Gladio frowns in response, but doesn't try a second time, "Yeah, I know... it's just shit that I'm stuck with _this_ ," he makes a gesture at the scar on his shoulder that marks him as a wolf, "when I could have something from _you_."

Ignis sighs at that, "I know. Trust me, I rather miss your claims, as well. Annoying as they were, when you decided that they didn't deserve to remain beneath my clothes." Gladio chuckles a little at that; likely in correct response to all the times Ignis has had to adjust his collar or wear a scarf to attend meetings and not draw attention to his neck.  Ignis can't find it in him to feel annoyed; he just smiles a little and shrugs when he continues, "But, this is how life is now. A little less colourful, as far as claims go; but, you've certainly been ever vigilant, keeping the idiots away. I rather enjoy the physical gestures as much as the claims."

It doesn't happen often and, honestly, Ignis always thought the rumours of vampires attracting people without effort to be excessive and false. He learned quickly that was _not_ the case and quite frequently felt the stares following them. Whether or not Noctis noticed, he was unsure; honestly, he wasn't even sure they were aimed at _him_ and not Gladio. That always made more sense to him—for people to flock to his boyfriend, to be drawn into the charisma as much as his looks. But, Gladio saw it as a challenge and made a point to _always_ ensure people _knew_ they were together. Whether it was as simple as holding hands or a bolder statement with his arm tight around Ignis' waist, people _knew_.

Gladio just grins at him in response, gives him another quick kiss, and finally slides away to pace the room, idle chatter filling the air, while they wait for the moon to rise.

The transformation is considerably less disturbing this time around; so much so that Ignis isn't even paying it mind in favour of reading through the entire ordeal. Or. He had been until his book is suddenly snatched away and he startles.

Snatched isn't exactly the proper word. Not at first. It's _knocked_ from his hands, off to the side, before Gladio trots over to it, acting as though he didn't just attack a harmless piece of literature and picks the book up, spine in his mouth, and carries it to the far corner. He's a little more gentle, this time, when he sets it down and returns to Ignis, sitting patiently and giving him an expectant look.

Ignis raises a brow, trying to sound or at least _look_ cross, but knows he's failing horrendously, "Truly? You believe that harassing my book in such a fashion will earn you a pet? Absolutely not."

Gladio huffs, but still makes no move to retrieve the book. The only thing he does is flop over on Ignis' lap the minute he attempts to get up to fetch the book himself. Trapped against the wall, beneath a large mass of fluff and muscle, Ignis can only let out a strained breath (mostly from sheer habit, given that he doesn't _need_ to breathe anymore), "Oh, we are having _words_ the moment you change back, don't think for a moment you're getting out of this without a lecture."

He could, if he wanted, absolutely get free. He could easily push Gladio off of him and fetch his book before the wolf recovered. But that would, of course, imply he  _wanted_ to.

The response is a look of smug contentment when he finally concedes to scratching Gladio behind the ears and fluffing his hands through the thick fur a few times. Once satisfied, Gladio stands without warning, without fuss, shakes off and goes to retrieve the book. Careful when he picks it up, careful in the way he carries it, careful when he sets it in Ignis' waiting hands. The second the book is open, Gladio wiggles his way beneath Ignis' arms, most of his weight across his lap, and settles in for the rest of their night.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I actually could have posted this sooner (probably) but I wasn't sure if she wanted the bit about Ignis drinking from Gladio to be a surprise so <3 It's ok tho, so here you go ♥   
> I do have a longer chapter planned but that is for later uvu for now, please enjoy floofs while I go work on Missing Frame ♥
> 
> ♥ Thanks, as always, for reading, friends! ♥


	3. Third Moon

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> This chapter was actually supposed to be up before New Moon, but I finished that one first and was super excited so uvu it's ok ♥ This takes place a little bit before [chapter 24](http://archiveofourown.org/works/9252272/chapters/22625426%22) \o/ for reference to some of the things Gladio and Ignis talk about during chapter 25 of B&B and the next chapter of this!

The third moon, they time things rather horrendously.

Ignis grinds his teeth together, feels his fangs trying to split into his lower lip before he manages to stop, and glares out the cave they've taken cover in. The rain continues, completely unperturbed and he gives a thick, strained sigh; habitual and trying to rein his stress in, mostly.

"Well, this is just _perfect_."

Behind him, Gladio laughs and shakes his head, sending water droplets off to all directions, "It's not so bad, Iggy. Rain ain't hell fire at least?"

"This is _not_ entertaining, Gladio. We haven't nearly enough time to get back to town, to the lock down—"

"—Slow down, Iggy." His boyfriend cuts him off, coming up behind him to give his shoulders a vague squeeze, "It's ok, isn't it? There's no one out here. Just us. We'll be fine."

"And if someone shows up?" Ignis pulls away to begin pacing, worries his lip with his teeth further, "When has weather _ever_ deterred a hunt? I know you're calm around me. I'm positive you'll be calm around people, but...."

But, people weren't calm around them. They wouldn't be calm when they realised Gladio wasn't just a domesticated wolf, when they realised Ignis wasn't human. He wasn't horrendously worried about _people_... but _hunters_. Hunters had been shown to jump to all sorts of conclusions. His mind wanders back to Lucis—back to their first night camping. Back to the group that had blindly accused them of holding Prompto hostage, of Prompto having Stockholm; wanders to more recent events with people judging _them_. Hunters and wolves and even humans who could tell they were both supernatural creatures—who could tell that there actually was a lycan traveling with two vampires and a human. (The looks are a little less damning now; with Nyx and Luna around; some of the attention goes to the latter pair, now, at least....) He hisses when Gladio catches his shoulders again, forces him to turn, and catches him before he can look away. His grip isn't tight—Ignis can easily wrench himself free, can still turn his head if he so desired... but, he does his best to keep eye contact, tries to let Gladio's calm wash over him.

"If," Gladio starts, his voice a soft sort of contemplation. He trails off immediately and considers what he's saying, before picking back up. "If hunters do show up. We can outrun them. Easily. You run, I'll follow."

"You don't know that." Ignis protests, making a gesture back towards the outside of the cave, "We both assume you'll follow me—what if you don't? If they attack? _I_ trust you, Gladio. You _know_ I do. I _don't_ trust your temper. I don't trust _my_ temper." He feels the hysteria taking over his voice more than he realises his tone has changed, "If they attack either of us—"

"Iggy." Gladio cuts him off, tone strict. His expression softens and takes the edge out of his voice. Both hands are at his face, thumbs running gently along his cheekbones in a soothing manner for a few seconds before Gladio continues, "We both have enhanced senses. We'll hear them, or smell them, before they get close enough to attack. We'll be fine. They'll be fine. We can do this. Ok?"

A moment longer and Ignis finally gives a conceding nod, "Right... right."

They still have a few hours before moonrise. Gladio stretches out before he begins discarding his clothes, watching Ignis as he does, "Suppose it's a good thing you can't catch a cold anymore."

The distraction is welcome and Ignis gives a mild chuckle, shaking his head and brushing plastered hair away from his face, trying to slick it back, "That doesn't make wet clothes feel any more pleasant, I assure you. I'll survive." He glances out of the cave at the heavy downpour and sighs, "No chance of finding dry wood or brush for a fire. If nothing else, I am positive that means civilians won't be out and about... and, hopefully, any hunters will take similar precaution and not venture into this weather."

Gladio hums, crouching down close to where he's folded his discarded clothes and watches the storm as well, "Never would've seen _anything_ like this back home. I mean... I miss home, don't get me wrong... you never see storms like this in Insomnia. Maybe if spent more time along the coast, but...." He trails off with a shrug. Despite the situation, the severity of the storm, he looks positively ecstatic and Ignis can only tilt his head with a small, amused smile.

"You'd have likely given your father quite the scare, running off into a storm like this. Iris, at the very least, would have had a number of cross words for you. Words I'm sure she'll have for both of us, when we get back." At that, Ignis could only shakes his head a little, finally settling to sit next to Gladio. His clothes were still soaked and sitting in the dirt wasn't his first choice... but, given that his clothes were already quite beyond repair from running through the storm, he found he cared just a little less... and then even less when Gladio finally settles to sitting the ground, their shoulders pressed close together for a sense of familiarity and warmth. Comfort. Ignis feels the smile tugging his lips and tilts his head so he's leaning on Gladio's shoulder, "I'll end up owing Noctis quite the apology, won't I? I warn him to be mindful of where he takes Prompto and _when_... and, weeks later, we're stranded out here on the night of the full moon."

"Maybe." Gladio shrugs, "But he _really_ should have told any of us that he was taking Prompto out for the night. Maybe not where—well... no, definitely where, so we'd have an idea where to search for them if they didn't get home at a reasonable hour the next day. The difference here, is neither of us are at the top of any country's most wanted list. Those two are."

The mere mention of Niflheim brings a thick tension into the atmosphere and Ignis glances up out the corner of his eye, "The information your father's given us is unsettling, but there isn't anything we can do. Not quite yet. Not without bringing it to everyone else's attentions and _not_ without a plan." Ignis pulls his knees up to his chest, arms wrapped loose around them as he stares at the ground, "There are six of us. Against an empire of vampires. An Empire that has been ruled by vampires for longer than anyone cares to admit. Vampires that know the terrain better than _anyone_ on the outside could hope to. Four of us can be incapacitated with a well-aimed and utilised aerosol can and, if they've any marksmen even remotely capable as Prompto, we can be dusted easily. Wolves are a much larger target—they don't need to shoot a specific spot. All they need is a silver weapon—a bullet, a dagger, a sword, a lance... if that gets into your blood...."

His words trail off and he hugs his knees tighter, trying to push the thoughts away. Even when Gladio's arm curls around his shoulders, he doesn't relax; merely leans into the hug, pressing as close as he can to try dispelling the discomfort that knots in his stomach.

"I didn't say we go _now_ , Specs. Just something to try planning." Gladio presses a quick, reassuring kiss to his hair, the grip on his shoulder tightening for the briefest moment in reassurance. A reassurance that isn't quite believable, when the thick silence in the air remains. Before Ignis can ask, though, Gladio manages to speak up, " _If_... when we do go... if anything happens to me—"

"— _Gladio_ —"

"Iggy, let me finish." There's a split second of them giving each other annoyed looks; but, Ignis lets out a strained sigh to find his sense of reason and gives a short nod for Gladio to continue. "Thank you. _If_ anything happens and I do get poisoned... I want you to try turning me."

That was absolutely not where Ignis thought this conversation was going. Honestly, he isn't sure if that's better or worse and actually pulls away so he can turn to face Gladio with a look of utter incredulity, "You want me to _what_?"

Gladio meets the look evenly. No annoyance, no exasperation in his tone or expression; he isn't pleading, he isn't brushing the concerns off. He's evidently thought about this before and is solid in his conviction when he repeats, "I want you to turn me. Try to. If I ever get poisoned."

Normally, Ignis can think of a _million_ reasons to argue turning someone—specifically, when he overhears humans that glorifies the life of a vampire or Lycan, Ignis has a _number_ of arguments prepared and, quite thankfully, has only really needed to resort to them _once_. But turning a _wolf—_ that was almost completely unheard of.

There were rumours, of course. Rumours that stemmed from Niflheim—from centers where they kept Lycan for breeding purposes, same as human blood slaves; but, instead of feeding on them, they bred them to try finding a wolf compatible to be a hybrid.  As much as he would like to brush off the experiments as Niflheim being completely _insane_ and far without morals, he's also long concluded that the rumours came from _somewhere_. Maybe not in recent years, but somewhere out there, a hybrid does exist. Or, had. Maybe they had died. Maybe they hadn't been a hybrid and only displayed signs of both creatures—it wasn't unheard of for a human to survive a lycan attack and not be turned. Maybe one of them had been bitten and that's where lore sprang from.

Regardless, there is nothing in recorded history—recent or otherwise—that states with absolute certainty that hybridism is even an actual possibility. As much as he wants to vocalize every single doubt he's having at that moment, Gladio doesn't give him the chance. Perhaps he'd been quiet too long; but, Gladio continues before he can find the proper will to argue.

"I know it's not guaranteed to work. Trust me, I _know_. I've looked at every single book you have on vampirism and lycanthropy a hundred times, even before this happened." He gestures between them to signify their new lives, "You think I went out on those hunts without being prepared? Yeah, shit went to Hell on the last hunt; but, I at least knew what was going on when I woke up and knew what to _expect_. Living it just means I have a slightly different perspective than I did from reading about it." That's where he stumbles. Where he has to pause and he finally breaks eye contact to look down at his hands, flexing his fingers a few times before he tries to continue, "I know it's a shit thing to ask you to do, Igs. Trust me... the absolute _last_ thing I want to do is put you in that position. But there's something that scares me a lot more than _dying_. I've been drilled since I was old enough to hold a sword and shield that death _isn't_ something to be afraid of. I'm not scared of it." He finally looks back up, giving Ignis a searching look, "I'm scared of you being alone, if I die. Yeah, I'm worried about leaving Iris alone... but I know Noct and Luna and Nyx and Crowe would look out for her. Prompto would. You would. I know you would... but I also know it wouldn't be _you_. Not really. Looking out for her as a coping mechanism. Just because you don't need to sleep now and can't run yourself ragged...." He trails off again, hesitates, like he really doesn't want to say the rest.

Ignis frowns, eyes narrowing further, "If you think for one moment I would let _anything_ happen to _any of you_ —"

"You can't be in five places at once, Igs. Neither can I. That's why we fight as a _team_." The hesitation leaves and the conviction is more damning than before, "Can you promise me, with absolute certainty, that if I died, you _wouldn't_ walk off into the sun?"

The words make Ignis recoil, as though physically struck and, despite giving him an utterly offended glower, Ignis can't immediately rebuke the words, either. The longer they hold eye contact, the less confident he feels and he looks away first when he mumbles, "Of course I wouldn't. Noct may not be the Crown Prince anymore, but I—"

Gladio catches his chin and turns his head, forcing him to make eye contact again, "If you can look me in the eye and tell me you wouldn't, without using Noct or Iris as an excuse, I will drop this."

The silence this time is longer until Gladio finally releases him and lets out a slow breath, "It's not just about leaving you alone, either. I've read about silver poisoning, Iggy... it's slow. It's a long, damn drawn out and painful death. They have records in Altissia's library... _donated_ ," the word is little more than a growl, accented by the way his eyes are glowing brighter as moonrise draws closer, "from Niflheim. From their Lycan compounds. Depending on the wound—the weapon used, the depth, the severity... it can take _days_ for the poison to kill a wolf. Bullet wounds are probably the quickest—but that's still _hours_. If you aren't going to try turning me, I _want_ one of you to end it quicker. I am _not_ bleeding out in the middle of that Hellhole."

To that, Ignis has nothing to add. The knot is his chest should be suffocating and he knows he's imagining the pain of hyperventilating. A quick glance at his watch lets him know they're in the final minutes before moonrise. It won't be long before Gladio shifts and, as much as he wants to put this conversation behind them... he knows it'll come up again. And he doesn't want to end the night on something this tense. Not outside of lockdown, not when Gladio's getting ready to shift, not when they can't guarantee how calm either of them will be with this kind of tension in the air.

"... _If_ ," Ignis starts, notices the way Gladio sits up a little straighter to listen, "if... we do go through with this... if it comes down to it... ... Giving you a chance to fight is far preferable to letting you die without knowing if it _was_ possible." Relief washes over Gladio's expression; short-lived relief when Ignis meets his eye, "That being said: if it does not work... I will not make a promise I cannot keep. I will monitor Noct and Iris until they are back on their feet. If I can get them back to Insomnia, I will. As far as they will know, I will have retired to living alone and out of contact with the world. You will say _nothing_ to the contrary. I'm certain they'll figure it out, in due time. Time enough they'll have managed to cope, but I will not have you lording them over me in such a fashion."

A shorter strain of tense silence before Gladio nods, "If it fails, at least promise me you'll go out in a fight. Not submission."

"That much I can promise." It'll be easier on Noctis and Iris, as well—well... no. Not easier. But easier to swallow than if Ignis were to conveniently leave his light ring behind during a day stroll.

Despite a still lingering tension, the transformation goes smooth and as Gladio's shaking off and pawing at the ground to discard the torn flesh, Ignis finds his eyes closing, trying to go over the conversation in his mind. Plays over the words, tries to remember all the books he's read on both species, tries to remember anything he's seen on hybridism. Just in case—

His thoughts are interrupted by Gladio head-butting his leg and he lets his eye open to regard the wolf. He's met by an expectant look. The worrisome thoughts leave, in favour of a smile, and he reaches out to offer a small scratch behind his ears. To his surprise, however, Gladio moves away still watching him. He waits a few seconds before pattering towards the mouth of the cave, looking out into the rain, and then back at Ignis. A minute or so of neither of them moving and he huffs, walking back towards Ignis and head-butting his leg again, harder this time, before he goes back to the mouth of the cave, sitting stubbornly and watching Ignis intently.

Slowly, Ignis pulls himself to his feet, trying to scent any nearby human or anything else that would incite this kind of reaction; but, the second he gets close to Gladio, the wolf leaps right out of the cave, into the rain and, despite immediately being drenched, despite blending into the pitch black night with only his eyes as an indication of where he is, gives Ignis another expectant look.

"... No. No, we are not doing this, get back in here." Ignis hopes he's wrong; but, he has the vaguest feeling he's not and points back towards the cave, refusing to leave the dry cover now that _he's_ finally kind of dried off, "This is not a game, Gladio, we are not— _Gladio_!"

He would almost swear the wolf rolls his eyes before taking off in the night. Without thinking about it, Ignis takes off after him, relying heavily on his own enhanced senses—his hearing, especially, and trying to find Gladio's scent through the thick downpour and nearly overwhelming soaked foliage around them—to try finding him. But, much to his alarm, he finds that Gladio is _considerably_ faster in his wolf form and, even with enhanced speed, Ignis soon loses track of him all together when he breaks into a clearing, straining to see, to hear, to smell against the storm. A flash of lightning floods the area just before he's knocked on his back with a harsh thud.

Had he still needed to breathe, he would definitely be winded, be gasping for breath; but, given the situation, the gasp is merely from impact and he glowers at the form above him. Bright, glowing eyes that reflect mischief, that reflect a smirk, stare back at him before the wolf bounds off to the side, barking to get his attention and lowering down to a playful posture before he takes off into the woods again. Ignis gets back to his feet with an annoyed huff; but, despite his best efforts, he _really_ can't find it in him to stay mad when he chases after Gladio this time.

They continue well into the night, well after the rain has stopped, until Gladio finally leads him back to the cave, panting heavily, and—once he shakes off in an attempt to dry soaked and matted fur—flops down to the ground, huffing for breath and clearly struggling to stay awake. Ignis smiles at the sight and shakes his head when he moves to join him. His clothes are far beyond saving now—covered in mud and thoroughly soaked once more—but he really can't find the will to be upset. Even when Gladio moves to join him and flops down with his upper body across Ignis' lap, soon fast asleep.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> \o/ thanks as always for reading! Sorry for the chapter shuffling!! Lemme know if you spot typos and, as always, love u all <3 <3!!! (I have literally been wanting to do this since she started B&B and only just now got around to it lol;;;)


	4. New Moon

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> **Update!!! There is a chapter before this one!!! Yay 2 chapters!! Remember to slink back to the third chapter before this one, friends!!!**  
>  \o/ Remember to read the main story first! This pertains to the two latest chapters!!! [Chapter 25](http://archiveofourown.org/works/9252272/chapters/22640747) should definitely be read first! Can either be read right after chapter 25 or after chapter 26! Just remember to read hers first!
> 
> A warning for feels, I guess 83? I like feels uvu Also: #NyxIsNotAllowedToWin

If there is one thing Ignis is absolutely terrified of—almost more than the nigh impossible odds of this plan working—it is that  _ he _ would be the one that killed Gladio. He doesn't want to bite him, not in the least. He's already lost so much blood—still evident on Ignis, back in the living room, on the bed around him—the scent is everywhere and in the closed apartment bedroom, it's  _ worse. _ It should have made Ignis lightheaded; it should have made him dizzy and faint and desperate—instead, it just makes him feel something that reminds him of nausea. He's never considered how metal could smell; but, mingled in Gladio's blood, it is absolutely revolting. Burning. It smells like burning. A too strong fire eating away at the cedar and cliff side air that should have been comforting. Should have been Gladio. Comfort and home and something that smelled suspiciously sweet beneath the outdoor scents. He can't smell the sweet anymore; just burning and suffocating.

For some reason, though, he has a vague hope. Maybe it's Gladio begging—" _ Even if this don't work, just one bite, Specs. _ ..."—or maybe it's the inane voice in the back of his head that says  _ maybe _ it could work like regular poisoning. To drain the worst of the venom from the blood until.... He shakes the thoughts away. This wasn't normal poison and the source of the silver poisoning had gone too long untreated; the poison had spread too far and he is running out of time. If nothing else, he does know that most records of humans turning supply that the person has to be bitten first, regardless of any other injury. ...That, of course, assumes that turning a werewolf is even remotely similar to turning a human. As much as he doesn't want to do this—what if it ends up being too much, what if  _ this _ is what he remembered Gladio's blood as, what if this  _ fails _ —he lets out a slow breath—habitual, calming, grounding—and tries to focus. Past the sickening smell of silver, past the red blurring his vision whenever new tears pool to the surface.

He vaguely hears the door open behind him; but, it's the new scent that tells him Nyx is leaning on a nearby wall, watching, clearly uncomfortable and knowing he was intruding on what  _ should  _ have been a private moment (or, better, shouldn't have been happening at all) but still clears his throat a little to get Ignis' attention, "You don't have long."

"Right... of course, my apologies." Ignis shook his head a few times, exhaling again to collect himself, tries to ignore how it feels worse., "I've explained this to you before. I'm not sure what it will taste like to you—vampire blood is meant to be toxic, after all... but you  _ have _ to drink it."

Gladio gives a weak nod, his eyes screwing shut in pain when he can't focus on a single spot; his vision is fading, his pulse is terrifyingly slow—painful to listen to, to watch—and Ignis has to swallow a fresh sob when he leans down. The suffocating scent gets worse; but, he ignores it, somehow, and pauses over the spot he normally bites, doubt and questions flooding his mind once more. It's not until he feels a damp hand in his hair that he realises Gladio's moved—struggled to try helping him relax, even though  _ he _ shouldn't be moving. But, before he can find the words to scold him, to worry, Gladio lets out a shaky breath, his voice getting quieter by the second, "It's ok. We've got this."

His pulse denotes the lie. The weak smile. But, it's enough for the moment and Ignis finally bites down.

The taste is almost worse than the smell—like smoke clouding his lungs; like the way blood  _ used _ to taste when it filled his mouth, when he was still human. It isn't hard to take the small sip, to (hopefully) prepare Gladio's body for the change it's going to undergo. He doesn't pull back too far, just enough that he can turn his head and rips into the heel of his palm with his fangs. He suspects that his wrist may have been a simpler choice; but, his focus is on keeping the wound open. He watches the purple begin to pool to the surface, curls his fingers tight, using the grip and his nails to keep the tear open, and brings his hand up to Gladio's lips. He doesn't watch; instead, puts his head down, on Gladio's shoulder and stares at the bite he left. The bite that  _ should _ have closed already.

He confirms the toxin has been taken in by watching his throat when he swallows and watching the way his breathing comes to a halt. Feels his heart stop. Listens to the way his blood stops running all together, begins to pool without force driving it. Red lines his vision again, stronger, and he turns to bury his face in Gladio's shoulder, tries to ignore how  _ cold _ he is, tries to muffle the sob clawing at the back of his throat.

A warm hand on his back tries to draw his attention and he thinks Nyx may be speaking to him. He probably is; but, Ignis just snarls, refuses to move when he issues a simple warning, "Do  _ not _ touch me."

The warmth leaves immediately and the breath that fills the room is a strained sigh, "Go clean up. It takes three days for a human to turn... Astrals only know how long it takes a wolf to turn. Do you want me to run across the hall to get you clothes?"

"I can manage, thank you." Ignis hopes he speaks up loud enough and stands, turning stiffly. He pauses for a moment, looking down at his hands in consideration before he finds his voice again, "If you do not mind opening the door to my apartment, however... I believe I saw Gladio's keys on the kitchen counter, next to the fridge."

Nyx nods and exits the room first; Ignis looks back over his shoulder once more before he finally follows suit, following close at Nyx's heels when they cross to Ignis and Gladio's apartment. Nyx doesn't invite himself in; instead, he just unlocks the door and turns the handle enough that Ignis can push the door open with small bit of force from his foot and shut it the same way.

Immediately, Ignis takes in the familiar scent of their apartment in hopes of calming himself. Their apartment still smells right... for now. He moves quickly—stopping in the kitchen to wash his hands first so he doesn't leave handprints everywhere and secures a trash bag before heading to the bathroom, quickly, and locking himself in. Clothes can be replaced. Everything material can be replaced. All of his clothes end up stuffed in the bag, desperate to keep the contaminated scent contained. Keep it from spreading to the rest of their apartment. His torso and lap and parts of his legs and arms are stained red from blood seeping through his clothes. He doesn't wait for the water to warm up when he turns the shower on—hardly feels how cold it is and barely notices the temperature increase until it's scalding hot. The way he needs it to be as he scrubs, furious and harsh, at his skin to get the blood out. To make the burning smell go away faster, to make it  _ stay away _ .

Once he's out of the shower, he wraps up in Gladio's towel, completely ignoring his own. Breathes in, deep, through his nose and lets the familiarity flood the rest of his senses before he finally dries off and heads back to their bedroom for fresh clothes. Simple clothes for now—workout clothes he normally uses to join Gladio for morning runs, clothes that can be ruined, that he won't care about discarding—and he immediately turns his attention to sanitizing  _ everything _ in their apartment. The kitchen, first; then the small bit of blood that trailed from kitchen to bathroom from his clothes; then the bathroom and shower, stained from stripping and cleaning himself. Cleanliness. But not enough to erase Gladio from their apartment.

For good measure, he takes the trash bag with the soiled clothes back to the kitchen and stuffs it in another bag, then another. Normally, he'd take it straight to the nearest dump site, but for now... that will do. For now, he needs to be back across the hall.

He doesn't bother to lock the door when he hurries back to Noctis' apartment, trying not to let the hope build up too high. Hope is all but dashed when he opens the door and recoils from the suffocating scent once more, face contorting with the force. Nyx looks up apologetically from the middle of the floor, "Sorry. I know a few tricks for getting blood cleaned up, but... not this much."

"Nothing to apologise for. Thank you, though." Ignis glances around the apartment, desperate to distract himself from the fact he only hears  _ one _ heartbeat, "Noct may be cross with us later, but if you would kindly gather as many towels as possible from the bathroom... I'll do what I can cleaning. I—I need to be moving around."

Nyx nods once in understanding and moves to comply, while Ignis goes straight for the kitchen, taking the whole roll of trash bags. While he's there, he notes that Nyx had organised the three packs worth of blood pouches into the fridge, along with making the steaks more accessible. Just in case... honestly, neither of them were sure what to expect if this worked.  _ When _ , he tries to tell himself. He needs to believe this is going to work. It  _ has _ to.

♠

It takes Ignis the better part of two hours to get the apartment cleaned to his standards.

He makes a note to replace all of Noctis' towels, pay to have the floors properly stripped and replaced, perhaps a new rug for good measure, and all of the damage the apartment sustained in the struggle. Two hours and not a single change. Two hours and now he doesn't have a single thing to distract him. Not even reading. He sees the words on the page; but, they don't mean anything to him, so he puts the book back on the table. Rests his elbows on his knees, clasps his hands tight together and presses his forehead against his knuckles in something that resembles a prayer.

In passing, he wonders how sacrilegious it must be, for an undead to resort to praying. Wonders if any divine being would listen. He stops watching the clock, hoping that time will become less of an issue if he lets his thoughts wander.

His leg bounces, restless, and he feels a tremble in his hands. He can feel Nyx watching him from across the room, standing guard by the apartment door. Supposedly, to be at a decent distance from Gladio when he does change—being the only supply of fresh blood, he does have a point... but, Ignis also suspects that the man is stationed to keep him from leaving. He's confident enough he could overpower Nyx if he needed to, but... he appreciates the gesture. Some part of his mind does, at any rate; the part that understands the caution. He looks down at his hands—specifically, at the light ring on his middle finger—and wonders if Gladio will end up needing a ring. He hears Nyx straighten when he stands and gives a hollow laugh, "So you  _ are _ supposed to keep me from leaving."

"Neither of us should go anywhere." Nyx points out, wariness lining his voice and caution in his stance, "Gladio's calmest around you and you don't have a pulse. I won't be able to be alone with him when he turns. And, yeah, you're right." He doesn't try to deny the accusation and gives a vague shrug, "I am very specifically here to make sure you don't do anything stupid."

Ignis gives a bitter laugh, gesturing back towards the bedroom, "Truly? You've failed rather spectacularly, haven't you? I just bit my boyfriend, allowed him to ingest the most deadly known toxin on Eos, and  _ killed him _ ."

"To save him," Nyx counters, easily, and positions himself in Ignis' path to the door, "Look. I'm not happy with the situation, either. This place was supposed to be safe for  _ all of us _ . My girlfriend and little sister just took off across the continent with the crown prince to—" his voice falters for a moment, expression equally distressed, before he reins it in, "... To save our friends. I may not have known them as long as you, but they're my friends, too. Luna's going back to the place that destroyed her life; Prompto's already there and they have Iris; Crowe and Noct probably aren't using a cent of battlefield strategy that we've tried to teach them; and, we're both here. You think I'm enjoying this? I should have— _ could have _ —been here with them. Crowe and I both could have been here. And then what? We're short more hands? We take longer to make a plan? Even when we catch up with them, I'll be a liability—I don't have to enjoy it, but it's a  _ fact _ . So yeah, I'm here to stop you from doing stupid shit; but I'm also here because  _ I _ would be the weak link."

For a moment, Ignis manages to regain himself. Just a moment—a moment he remembers that Nyx was part of the Kingsglaive. That he had been duty-bound to Insomnia's royalty, just as much as Ignis and Gladio. That he still considered it his job to protect the royal family, even if Noctis would never take the throne, even though Luna  _ couldn't _ take her throne, regardless of her situation. By all rights, given the circumstances, Luna could easily amend the laws of Tenebrae... if she could retake her kingdom. He's reminded that a large chunk of the Kingsglaive were taken out ten years ago—an incident that had never been closed, despite multiple attempts made by the remaining Glaives and Crownsguard alike. Publicly, the matter may have been closed; but, people like Crowe had never given up and it cost them just as much, if not more.

The sense of clarity, of sympathy, lasts for barely a moment. Ignis narrows his eyes, hand flexing in a motion that's ready to summon his daggers if it becomes necessary. His attention strays to check the time for a split second. Just over three hours. He turns back to Nyx, trying to maintain a level tone. "True enough, I suppose. But that's no reason to keep me here. We aren't even certain this will work. There is an ample supply of blood if this does work and you're hardly incapable of defending yourself long enough for Gladio to come to his senses." If. He can't even bring himself to hope at this point. Manic grief, mostly. He needs to be away from the apartment and Nyx isn't moving. "I will only tell you once:  _ Move _ . I'm going."

"You aren't thinking any clearer than they are. So, no." Nyx keeps a wary eye on him, hands resting at his sides. Ignis assumes he has garlic spray, perhaps stakes, on his person. He isn't foolish, after all; not completely. He  _ is _ foolish if he thinks he'll be able to take Ignis in close-range combat. " _ When _ this works, he's going to need you. You're staying here. Even if I have to stake you to the damn couch and find a way to deal with him myself."

Ignis isn't entirely aware of what happens next. He's almost certain he imagines the second heartbeat; imagines it being his own, imagines hearing blood pounding in his ears when rage floods his veins. Desperate hallucinations to deal with the situation; hallucinations he'll deal with  _ after _ he's dealt with Nyx.

They react at the same time. His daggers appear a split second before Nyx knocks him to the floor, one stake piercing his shoulder to pin him down. Not drowning in a garlic coating—but, enough to elicit a hiss of pain. His daggers may not be silver, but they're still more than enough to drive into Nyx's arm for leverage; more than enough to get him to let go of the stake so Ignis can rip it from his shoulder and push him back for distance. A bit harder than he needed to, admittedly, when the wolf ends up slammed against the door. Nyx shakes his head a few times when he stands, recovering marginally quicker and pulling the dagger from his arm.

When Ignis had first met Nyx, he'd finally understood Noctis' aversion to Gladio's blood. Even with the scent of silver-laden blood lingering in the apartment, the fresh blood clouds his senses and makes him recoil. It's more than enough, momentarily, to shake him back to his senses, along with the vague pain of his shoulder mending itself. Long enough for him to take in his surroundings and, in that moment of calm, he realises he hadn't been hallucinating. The second heartbeat, the sound of blood—the  _ scent _ of blood—wasn't in his head and  _ wasn't _ just Nyx. The realisation hits him a second too late—seems to hit Nyx at the same time, if the way his expression changes from pain to shock is any indicator—and neither of them react quick enough.

They barely register the situation, barely register the door being torn off its hinges, when Nyx is knocked to the ground a second time with a loud thud. Thankfully, it doesn't completely wind him and actually knocks him to his senses in time for him to catch Gladio's hands before they rip his throat, before they become fists, and the two are soon struggling for control of the situation.

It's the sound of Nyx's bones begin cracking in protest that finally snaps Ignis out of his own shock and he rushes forward, trying to pull Gladio back, "Gladio—Gladio,  _ stop _ , that's Nyx!"

He's not sure if it's because of relief or if it's Gladio himself, but Ignis is actually  _ struggling _ to pull him back. Maybe it's a bit of both; but, as soon as he has enough leeway—and it's only a split second of Gladio being thrown off balance—Nyx manages to scramble away and put distance between them, crouched on the far side of the living room, well away from the kitchen, with his arm wrapped in his shirt to try slowing the bleeding while his bones mend and the dagger wound tries to close. The motion knocks Gladio further off balance, enough that Ignis can get around him and push him towards the kitchen, trying to keep the attention on him, "Look at me—just—"

Emotion strangles the words and it takes more effort than he cares to maintain composure. Control. Emotions can wait— _ need _ to wait. When they're close enough that Ignis manages to get the fridge open, Gladio's attention  _ finally _ leaves Nyx. Before Ignis can turn his attention to the blood pouches, though, his boyfriend's tearing into a steak pack.

"That's not—" Ignis starts to protest, then trails off, a frown taking over his features. A heartbeat. Blood. He glances back over his shoulder where Nyx is, trying to grasp just what's happening.

Nyx definitely still smells absolutely revolting. Silver still lingers in the air, but it's nowhere near as suffocating as earlier. More than everything else, there's comfort. Familiarity. A scent that should be—absolutely  _ is _ overpowering and makes his senses reel, makes the world spin for a second when he realises the blood is Gladio's. The world spins just a little bit faster for a moment and  _ that _ he easily brushes off as relief flooding his system and finally looks back towards the fridge. Relief that turns into a laugh—just as much amusement at this point—and Ignis soon finds himself on his knees, unable to stay standing as the swell of emotion destroys any sense of stability he may have possessed.

Gladio glances over his shoulder, eyes considerably less clouded than they'd been moments earlier, confusion lining his features, even when he rips into—as far as Ignis can tell—a third package of steaks. Ignis shakes his head a little, eventually managing to find his voice, "I was going to offer to cook those a little."

"And ruin a perfectly good steak? How about no?"

"That's... actually settling all right, then?"

"... Why wouldn't it—oh. ... Oh, I guess it is." Gladio startles as the events apparently start to catch up with him, "I'm... yeah, I feel fine? I mean. I'm fucking starving, but... no, I feel fine."

Given that there is no recorded history of any successful hybridism cases, Ignis isn't too surprised. This may not be the best time to experiment; but, as he's staring at the still closing wound on Gladio's abdomen, he can't stop himself from making a small suggestion, "Humour me a moment and try one of the blood pouches? Please?"

Gladio makes a face; but, complies to grabbing a pouch and—after the initial testing taste—ends up going through at least ten before either of them realise it. The entire time, Ignis monitors the wound and, as Gladio takes in the blood, watches the wound close much quicker. He makes a note to start recording the findings at a later date; for now, they have more pressing matters to attend. He glances back to make sure Nyx's arm has healed—confirms the man's perched on the couch, warily watching them—before he clears his throat to get Gladio's attention away from where it's returned to the steaks, "If Nyx comes closer, are you going to be all right?"

The look he gets is pure confusion, "Why wouldn't I be? I'm assuming he's what smells like the backside of a butchery, so... yeah, no."

"Fuck you." Nyx grumbles, slowly edging forward, "Tried to break my damn arms and you have the nerve to ask that? Really?"

Ignis coughs to keep from laughing; Gladio looks even more confused, so he tries to explain without damaging Nyx's ego any further, "You attacked him immediately... you don't remember that?"

A blank stare. Apparently he doesn't remember. A moment of silence, save the sound of Gladio puncturing another pouch and draining the contents before he finally tries to answer, "I... remember you biting me... and then... nothing? And then... kinda heard arguing—" realisation takes over his expression, "You got hurt. That's what it was. Everything went red after that."

Nyx glowers, but he doesn't grumble this time. If Ignis remembered correctly, Nyx reacted quite similarly when Luna was threatened and Gladio had always been quick to react to a threat against Ignis and—

He sits up a little straighter when the thought hits him and he feels the attention shift to him immediately. Nyx catches on first and glances at Gladio, "You feel ok enough to travel?"

"How much of a head start did they get?" For the situation, Gladio's remarkably calm. Or at least, doing a rather fantastic job at portraying calm. Ignis monitors him as they all stand.

"We're a bit past the four-hour mark, now." Nyx glances around the room, "We need to move. You two get whatever you need together, let him finish eating. I'll go grab a light ring, just in case. Gods know we don't want to risk you burning during this trip."

"I mean... I have a pulse and blood? I think. I have a pulse, at any rate—"

"You definitely have blood," Ignis puts in, adjusting his glasses, "Nyx is correct, though. We shouldn't take any risks—"

"No, I mean. I really don't think I'll need one." Gladio scratches at the back of his head, "Look, you can go grab one if you want, but I  _ really _ think I'll be fine. I'm going to get a shower, at least, before we go. I'm covered in blood still and I can  _ smell _ the silver on me.  _ That _ is nauseating. So. Shower, bring whatever's left of the blood in the fridge... Nyx can grab extra pouches while he's out, just in case. For the others. If I've still got blood, Iggy's covered. We leave as soon as possible. Right?"

Neither of them have an argument. As Nyx is heading out, they head back to their apartment; he tosses an extra set of keys towards them, "I have extra stakes in my apartment, and a few jars of garlic water for emergencies. Pack what you want. Be back soon."

The second their apartment door closes, Gladio turns on Ignis and drags him into a near bone-shattering hug. Literally. Ignis can feel every bone in his body protest and realises that Nyx hadn't been exaggerating Gladio nearly breaking his arms and he  _ definitely _ hadn't imagined struggling pulling his boyfriend away. He doesn't say anything about it, even when Gladio finally releases him with a slow breath and weak smile, "Ok... ok... save the rest for when we get Iris and Prom back."

Ignis nods his agreement and watches Gladio retreat towards the bathroom. In that time, he secures new clothes for himself—something he'll still be comfortable running in, comfortable to inevitably fight in—and sets clothes out for Gladio before he goes to raid Nyx and Luna's apartment.  It doesn't take him long to find the stakes and garlic water; and, in passing, he makes a note to ask Luna how she stands the scent when Nyx makes the weapons. Though, he supposes, if it's for any sort of advantage, quite a few things can be tolerated. He coats both of his daggers in garlic water—not nearly as effective as a stake, but it'll still leave an extra bite in an emergency—and finishes packing the rest, and the stakes into one of the backpacks. They can take another two for blood pouches. Just in case. Even when it goes unspoken, they all acknowledge there is a very real possibility that the blood may see use. Either for emergency rations or....

Ignis shakes his head, quickly. He refuses to be pessimistic. Not now. Not when they've defied as much as they have.

When he returns to their apartment, he finds Gladio standing at the end of their bed, staring at his clothes. Ignis frowns, approaching cautiously and smoothing a hand over his shoulders, "Gladio?"

"... When you changed... did you have like... this little nagging in the back of your head? Like... telling you what your limits were? What you could do, what you couldn't?"

Ignis startles and imagines he must look confused because Gladio makes a frustrated noise when he ruffles a hand through still wet hair in a flustered gesture, "I don't know how else to explain it. But I'm serious, I don't think I need the ring. And... I  _ think _ I can get us to Gralea faster."

Admittedly, Ignis can't recall much from when he turned. He remembers being alarmingly famished. He remembers struggling with all the new scents around him, especially the second he picked up Gladio's scent in Hammerhead. But, he understands a little. How he hadn't needed to be overly conscious of newfound strength. He had been, admittedly, very worried about learning to control his grip, re-learning his body's limitations... but, it had all felt natural. Happened naturally. ... Well. As naturally as anything could happen for them, anymore. So, instead of brushing him off, he ventures for more details, "How? I mean, how can you get us to Gralea faster?"

"I think I can shift. I mean... I am like almost a hundred-percent positive I can shift. Last full moon—last time... when we got stuck out in that cave... you said I ran off. You had trouble keeping up."

Ignis feels his eye twitch a little at the memory; fond as it may be, he had  _ not _ been amused, chasing Gladio through the rain, "You wore out, as I recall; but, yes. Lycan are faster than vampires in their wolf forms—" He cuts off when the logic catches up with him, "But... vampires don't have stamina restraints." Gladio nods and Ignis hesitates before he continues, "It's... it's worth a try... will you be able to carry us, though? If I could barely keep up with you, Nyx definitely won't be able...."

"Nyx won't be able to what now?"

They both jump at the sudden voice. Nyx is leaning in their doorway, two bags over his shoulders. He quirks a brow at them, "There a reason you're standing there naked?"

"He's getting dressed now, we'll explain once we get outside." Ignis glances back towards Gladio, "If we are going to try this, we should try at the edge of the city, not in the middle."

Gladio nods in agreement and, despite looking utterly confused, Nyx doesn't make any attempts to get more information until they're outside the city limits.

Nyx points off towards the west, "Luna said the plan was to run along the tracks. So, we follow them. ... Now, what's this plan of yours—why is he stripping? Seriously, what the Hell were you two talking about while I was gone?"

Ignis wants to give his boyfriend an annoyed look—and he does; a quick, exasperated glance over his shoulder—before he turns to Nyx, "Gladio believes he can shift forms freely. I believe him. Given that, he can run much faster than either of us and we should be able to catch up to the others in no time."

"Carrying you two won't be a problem and I'm pretty sure I'll be able to carry at least two of the packs in my mouth; you'll have to hold the third one, unless you can condense them. Telling you this right now, though," Gladio speaks up from where he's slicking his hair back from his face and giving Nyx a warning glare, "You pull my fur, I will  _ end you _ ."

"Assuming this even works, the hell do you expect me to—oh, fuck you, I am not clinging to your boyfriend for the entirety of this trip!"

Gladio isn't listening. At least, Ignis assumes he isn't; because there isn't an answer. Just a familiar crack of bones filling the still air around them. Something Ignis has gotten far too used; enough that he doesn't need to watch after the initial moment of pride and turns his attention to Nyx, intending to ask for input on any plan of action and help with condensing their packs. He's confident enough they can carry the stakes on their persons and Gladio's clothes can easily be put in one of the extra spaces of the backpacks. He stops short when he sees the man's expression—hesitant and shaken up—and finally realises this is the first time Nyx has seen another wolf turn, "... Nyx, are you all right?"

"... I mean... I knew it hurt like Hell when I changed, but I...  _ this _ is what we go through every month?" He sounds distressed. Mortified, even. He looks away from the transformation as the wolf begins emerging from tearing skin. Ignis puts a calm hand on his shoulder.

"I assure you, Luna doesn't think any less of you."

"I didn't say—"

"You didn't. You don't need to." Ignis shrugs, "I know that look. Gladio had the same reservations, which is why I am positive of the accuracy of my prior statement. You can always confirm it yourself when we get to Gralea."

Before Nyx can argue further, his eyes widen and he takes a few steps away from Ignis, just as Ignis feels a familiar nudge against his arm. He smiles a little, following the gesture and moving to give Gladio's ears a gentle scratch. He turns the glance towards Nyx, hoping to reassure him the situation is under control, "Shall we, then?"

Gladio huffs and lowers himself enough that Ignis can easily swing a leg across his back, almost easier than mounting a chocobo. There's a low growl when Nyx approaches and Ignis rolls his eyes, flicking one of the wolf's ears, "Stop that—ah, right, the packs." He shrugs his off to dig the stakes out, tossing them towards Nyx, "You've your crossbow, so I'm positive those can fit in with your bolts. Am I correct?"

Nyx doesn't give a verbal response; instead, he stores them into the pack with the quiver of bolts, secure in a box so nothing was punctured, and makes sure the box and his bow are secured to the pack before he shoulders it. He leaves the second pack of blood pouches on the ground, gives Gladio another glare, and finally hoists himself up, using Ignis' shoulder for leverage. A moment longer and his arms find their way around Ignis' torso, grip secure.

He thinks Gladio gives an amused huff and rolls his eyes, reaching to ruffle the fur at his neck and find a grip for himself, "When you're ready, then."

Gladio stands, walks a few feet to test his own strength as much as allowing the two on his back to adjust; once he's confident in his own ability, he takes the pack up, straps secure in his mouth, and—no warning past the way he crouches down—takes off as fast as he can. The sudden rush is alarming—almost enough to knock Ignis' grip loose; but he manages to hold on and, given the way Nyx's grip tightens, as well, he was equally taken off guard. Later, he'll admit that Nyx wouldn't have been able to ride at the front, either way; even knowing he can't feel things the way he used to, Ignis isn't particularly fond of the rush of wind hitting his face, especially when they approach the harsher climate that marks the beginning of the Ghovoras Rift. Gladio stops just outside of the area, ears alert and twitching to pick up sounds. He lowers to let Ignis and Nyx slide off his back, before he stands at attention once more, sniffing the air and looking around, clearly trying to source a scent.

Faintly, Ignis can pick up Luna and Crowe's scents a good distance away still; but, Gladio heads off in a different direction, his ears flattening as he follows whatever caught his attention. Nyx glances at Ignis for confirmation; but, all he can do is shrug and quickly follow, after securing the dropped pack. Nyx pulled two stakes from his bolt case, tossed one to Ignis, and they both followed Gladio. As they do, a familiar scent hits Ignis and he realises  _ why _ Gladio had deterred. Ignoring the foreign scents,  _ Noctis _ is mixed into that. Gladio taking off in a sprint confirms that suspicion along with another—if Noctis wasn't with the girls, he had gone off on his own and, as he seemed so prone to doing lately, gotten himself into a fight he shouldn't have.

The only warning given, before Ignis can even think to beckon for Nyx to move faster, is Gladio letting out a piercing howl that reverberates off the canyon walls below them. Loud enough to hopefully get Luna and Crowe's attention, just as much as draw attention from whatever's attacked Noctis.

Ignis and Nyx catch up, just in time to see Gladio knocking something— _ someone _ into a frozen guardrail at the same time Noctis is scrambling to his feet. Relief floods Ignis' system and he can only give a confident, proud grin when Noctis spots them, when realisation lights up the prince's face, when he turns back to the large black wolf in surprise.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> #NyxIsReallyNotAllowedToWinEver


End file.
